Cry of the Blood
by zarah joyce
Summary: When the darker side of human nature reveals itself, its difficult to ignore its cries for blood... *Updated! Chapter 6 now up!*
1. Prologue

Author's Note: This is my very first The Lost World fic. Please be kind, and any type of feedback is greatly craved and appreciated! The story is quite dark and graphic, but I hope you'll enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing it.

Disclaimer: The show, the characters and anything related to it are not mine. 

**Cry of the Blood**

_Prologue_

The malicious glint of the knife danced in his eyes; his dilated pupils echoing the dreadful sparkle of the deadly object as it was swung in front of him, barely missing the flesh of his cheek by a mere half an inch.

"Marguerite," came the hiss of his voice, barely audible yet vibrating with suppressed emotions.

"Stay away from me," the woman told him, her own eyes wide and focused on him and his actions only. Her lower lip trembled in both fear and defiance, the only sign of emotion on her cold face, and she swung the blade again as he attempted to step towards her. "I said—" the blade made a whooshing sound as it sliced through thin air, "—stay away from me! You monster! You—"

"Marguerite!" The cry came from a wounded Veronica, who crouched down low at the corner. With one hand she clutched the fallen body of Challenger, as the man lay unconscious on her lap, while the other she kept immobile so as to delay the rapid outward flow of her blood. Tears stained her sun-kissed face as she bowed her head in sheer terror and helplessness. "Marguerite!" she cried again, but her voice came out small and remained unheard.

John Roxton glanced at Veronica, before returning his gaze on the wild-eyed woman who held the bloodied knife on her hand. She gripped at its handle like it was the most precious thing on earth, her bloodied knuckles turning white from the applied pressure.

"Marguerite," he said her name like a whispered prayer, "_give me the knife."_

Her gray eyes flashed with rage. For a moment, it seemed as though she was going to follow his fervent plea as she willingly lowered the blade. John smiled slightly, and he moved his hand towards her in an attempt to reach for the knife. But she had other plans. With a swift movement of her hand, she had managed to cut his skin, marring and staining its golden hue with the lively red of his blood.

"No!" Veronica cried again. "Marguerite, no!" her shout sounded shrill and high with fear as she pulled Challenger's body closer to her, as if the act would somehow protect them both from the massacre that she was sure was going to happen to them all. They were going to die that fateful night, and their deaths would be the doing of a person they had considered a friend, a family, a loved one.

Roxton barely glanced at his wounded arm; he barely felt the gush of blood as he stared at her. There was but one thing in his mind, there was but one thing he could do about their situation, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to do it. Even if it means—

He closed his eyes, as if in doubt. But when he opened them, there was a different glow in them both.

Suddenly, the tables have turned. Suddenly, she found herself without a weapon to defend herself with. Damn it, she should have been keener, more receptive of how he thinks when it comes to a duel. Marguerite finally allowed herself to feel the ice in her blood as she looked at Roxton. He looked apologetic, grieved, and downright determined. He raised the knife up, slowly, as if he was teasing, taunting her. She knew what he was going to do to her the moment he got his hands on that knife. And now, it was time for her to die.

The knife glinted maliciously as it reflected the dark light of the silent moon, and before she could even breathe, she heard these four, last words…

"I'm so sorry, Marguerite."

And the knife was plunged down; the blade aimed directly towards her heart.

* end prologue 

and I hope that that teased you into waiting for more… :) Don't worry, I'll make sure that the chapters will be longer than this one.


	2. Chapter One

**Author's Notes:** Wow! I'm overwhelmed with the reviews that I got. Thanks, guys. You really do know how to make a girl blush… *blushes profusely*

Thanks again to veggie_5 (it is my first TLW fic, I'm telling 'ya!) TLWROX (Can't answer that… you have to read on to know! :)) Beckers (You're coming back to read my fic! Yay!) and to MissMeganJane (Don't go bananas yet, I still have a lot under my sleeve!) I so appreciate the kind words!

So let's get it on with the fic, shall we? *grins*

**Disclaimer:** The show, characters and anything even remotely related to it are not mine.

Cry of the Blood Chapter One 

* _several days earlier_

Drum rolls echoed in the dark, silent night, the rhythmic beat giving life to an otherwise still environment.

Festivity.

Under the light of the full moon, a village seemed to celebrate it's thrive as its people danced and swayed to the music produced by their aboriginal musical instruments. The villagers' homes were decorated with bright ribbons and laces, lights of different sorts adorned every tree that surrounded them, and at the very center, a huge bonfire blazed, its angry yellow tongues reaching out to warm the people that were drawn to its heat and beauty.

One such person drawn to the fire, like a stubborn moth to a flame, was the fierce hunter, Lord John Roxton. In his hands he held a cup of the most delicious wine he had ever tasted, and he sipped it greedily, urging himself to take small sips when in fact he wanted to gulp it all up in one single swallow. Patience, he spoke to himself as his eyes danced all around the area. He took note of the ornaments and jewelry that were showcased outside the tents, and of the food that was laid humbly at his feet. But he had eaten already, that he reminded himself as he glanced at the empty plate beside him. No need to risk indigestion as a result of overindulging.

Ah, yes. Overindulging is a very bad thing. Roxton's eyes seemingly smiled as it lead itself towards a certain dark beauty. She was thoroughly enjoying herself, evidenced by the gay movement of her body as she danced in response to the lively tune. Marguerite looked at Veronica and giggled as they both proceeded to dance uninhibitedly. Another soon followed their laughter, and when Roxton turned he saw Assai coming directly towards the women, a huge smile on her face. Marguerite stopped dancing and invited Assai to dance with them, and even punctuated her request with a sway of her hips.

Overindulging might be a bad thing, but indulging himself in watching her dance was never a bad experience. In fact, it was anything but.

Roxton brought the cup to his lips and drank it all up. Maybe the wine, however minute his intake had been, already affected his senses enough to interpret Marguerite's dance as something that could be considered as… seduction. With every sway of her hips, he felt as though she was leading him on. With every step of her feet, he felt as though she was inviting him in. With every clap of her hand, he felt as though she was—

"It's the wine," he told himself loudly. But the Adam in him smiled in satisfaction as he watched his Eve dance. "And then some."

*

Marguerite Krux placed a hand over her chest, grinning as she felt her heart race from beneath her palm. She had just danced herself to exhaustion, but it felt really good. She turned her eyes towards Veronica and shook her head as the other woman remained mobile and active on her spot. "That woman," she told herself, "has the energy of three T-rexes."   

She grinned at Veronica as their eyes met. And when the woman seemed lost in her own actions, Marguerite took the time to look around the celebration that the Zanga village had prepared. 

She had spotted a lot of the peoples' valuables displayed at their tents, and when she asked Assai about them the woman said that the act symbolizes thanksgiving, that by mere showing off of their possessions they are thanking their gods for giving them such treasures. Marguerite noted that most of the jewelries were not made with gold or anything valuable, but clay. Few gems were used for decoration, but other than that there was very little value in all of them. She shook her head as she realized how improper her thoughts were. Here she was, being treated as one of the royal guests, and here she was, assessing the value of the commoners' treasures.

She allowed her eyes to roam once more, and, as if it had a mind of its own, it settled itself onto a gentleman who sat quietly by himself. When the sides of her mouth quirked up, Roxton raised his cup in greeting.

Marguerite allowed the smile that tugged on her lips to completely show itself as she walked over to him. She sat beside him and then expelled a long breath. "I've never had this much fun since who knows when," she said to him. "It seemed so long since I've been to any occasion, much less a celebration like this."

Roxton inclined his head. "The Zanga villagers are well known for their festive events." He said. "There'd never been a thanksgiving that passed without them partying like—"

"—animals?" she supplemented, her eyes lighting up with mischief.

"Speaking of animals," Roxton grinned. "Your dancing techniques need refurnishing." He said bluntly. "I've seen raptors dance more ably than you did a while ago."

His efforts were rewarded when an angry, dark flare ignited itself inside her eyes. "And who are you to complain?" she said loudly. Instead of giving way to the fury that his words brought out, she managed to smile widely. "I've seen a couple— wait, make that a _dozen_— men look at me with admiration while I was dancing."

Roxton didn't need any reminding. He _had_ noticed several men stare at the seduction that was Marguerite Krux. A possessive growl nearly emerged from his chest but he suppressed it quite admirably. "They've just never seen anyone act like that before." He countered smoothly. "Maybe they were just assessing if your actions were any indication of you being possessed."

"Me, possessed?" She waved her hand dismissively, and then glared at him. "Why don't you dance, and let's see who's the one walking with a devil inside him."

He stood up, which surprised her, since she wasn't that serious when she challenged him to dance. But when she started to speak she was silenced abruptly when his hand shot out for her. "Why don't we _both_ dance," he suggested, "and show this people what London has taught us."

Marguerite stared at his palm, and then at him. Slowly, a grin emerged on her face. "That sounds fine to me." She said.

And so they danced.

*

Outside, a celebration raged. Inside, though, old magic reigned.

An aged woman, with silver hair and eyes, prepared her ingredients for several of her spells.

A distant relative of Assai's, this woman, Magda by name, is a very powerful shaman. So powerful, in fact, that she could call the spirits to let her catch a brief glimpse of the future and of the past. Only a few people were gifted and wise enough to perform this spell, which called for the ability to communicate and control the spirits of time, and she was one of them. 

Magda laid out before her the items that she needed. Finding that her ceremonial dagger was the only one missing, she reached for it…

… and drew her hand back as she accidentally got hold of the blade and had only managed to cut herself on the palm.

And then something unusual happened. 

The cut on her palm yielded several drops of blood, and one by one it fell on the floor. One by one it fell, and one by one it darkened into a deep crimson and then faded into thin air.

Magda's aged face deepened with a frown.

That never bode well.

* end chapter one

Author's Notes (2): I hope you liked this part! As always, reviews are greatly craved and appreciated.


	3. Chapter Two

**Author's notes: Thanks for the feedback, guys! I really appreciate it … :) Thanks to challengerspet (don't worry, Challenger will be making his appearance soon enough!) Beckers (I just realized that Zanga celebrations ARE a little overused, aren't they? *grin*) veggie_5 (you just made my day with your lovely review! Thanks! ) and TLWROX (Thanks. And I agree with you, now that you've mentioned it, the blood-vanishing thing is kind of funny! Please excuse my weird sense of humor! :) ) **

Lastly, I want to thank SUZANNE, who was kind enough to send me an e-mail… thankies, Hon! You're a doll!

**Author's notes 2: Before we go any further, I would like to add that Malone wouldn't be in this fic. In my twisted mind it takes place after he left for some self-introspection (whatever!). And Finn hasn't yet arrived on the scene. Also, in this part there maybe some reference to the episode where M and R danced.**

**Disclaimer: Anything related to the show 'The Lost World' is not mine.**

**Cry of the Blood**

_Chapter Two_

Roxton gritted his teeth inwardly as he held Marguerite close to him. He had never known what actually hit him to take her in his arms; it was a universally known fact that he, Lord John Roxton, isn't too much of a Lord when it comes to dancing. Back in good old London, he tried to salvage what's left of his name by politely declining several women's flirtatious invitation of having him as a partner. If he was attending a party or any other celebration, he contented himself by rhythmically tapping his foot in tune with the music, or watching the others do their business on the dance floor.

And now, as he snaked his arm around Marguerite's waist, as he pulled her towards him until her chest touches his, as he watched her eyes glitter with a challenge, he couldn't help but question his motives again.

Maybe it's because he wanted to show to the other men that this beautiful woman, this woman who had managed to capture and enchant several men with her enigmatic dance, belonged to him. Maybe it's because he wanted to touch her all night, and if by dancing with her is the only means of doing so, then by God he would do it. Maybe it's because he loved the feel of her body against his, as they stood, toe to toe, with only a whisper of a breath between them. 

No matter what, he would risk everything within him just to have Marguerite Krux for himself, even for only a night, even for only a dance.

He blinked out of his silent reverie when he watched Marguerite lift her eyebrows at him.

"Now what?" she asked bluntly.

Roxton glanced at her eyes, and quickly looked down on their feet, afraid that she might see the uncertainty that he was feeling. He was uncomfortable, unsure of what to do next. "Well," he started, desperately searching for a good excuse, "we—"

"Oh, Roxton." She said. When he lifted his eyes to her face he found her smiling softly at him. Had she suddenly known his poor state? That he couldn't tell. "It's not like we've never danced before."

Images ran through his head, images of their previous dance. He had been blessed to hold her that day, and what could be considered more as a miracle was that he was able to lift her in his arms and generally made himself look good in front of her. But now— "That was different," he said. "The music then was familiar to me; this is not."

Marguerite's smile widened, as if by that statement she had known that it was the only excuse he could think of. "Fine." She said to him, smugness replacing the mirth. "This time, I will lead. But don't you dare step on my toes in front of all these people!"

"Step on your toes, dear Marguerite?" he asked. "I wouldn't even think of it."

No matter what, he thought as he grinned, Lord John Roxton would risk embarrassing himself just to have Marguerite Krux, even only for a dance.

*

Veronica smiled hugely as she made her way towards her friend, Assai, who was seated beside a tent and was watching the couple with interest. She sat beside her, and then joined the other woman in staring at Roxton and Marguerite. "Now that's something you don't get to see everyday," she quipped.

Assai nodded, unable to keep her eyes off the pair. "Would you look at that," she said. "I've never seen a man stare at a woman like your friend does. It's very clear that he loves her very much."

"Definitely." Veronica answered. "Though I've yet to see him tell her that. Or she him for that matter."

"That's a shame," Assai muttered. "A love as beautiful as that should never be denied."

"My thoughts exactly. And Challenger thinks so, too." At the mention of the older man's name, she looked around her. "By the way, where is Challenger? It seems as though I haven't seen him after the celebration began."

Assai pointed behind them, and when Veronica turned he saw that Challenger was seated with several of the elders, and he was speaking animatedly, even using gestures to accompany his words. Veronica grinned at the sight. "Looks like Challenger found himself someone to debate with." She said fondly. She could only guess that they were talking about his belief in science and the Zanga's belief in magic. 

"And he couldn't have found a more able elder than Amel." Assai commented, naming one of the oldest and wisest in their village. Then her eyes lighted up, and a smile emerged on her lips. "Speaking of elders," she began as she stood up, and helped Veronica to her feet. "I have to introduce you to someone."

They made their way to the tent that was to be found behind all the others. "And I want to meet him or her because…"

"Because she's pretty amazing at about everything." Assai answered. "And because she has the power to make you see your future now."

Veronica's face was pure blank. "Huh?"

Assai grinned at her. "You heard me," she said at her friend's dumbfounded expression. "Magda is my mother's second cousin, and she only arrived yesterday from a very long journey from the mountains. Father told me that her magical abilities have grown a hundred-fold, and she could now foretell your future, as well as your past, without much difficulty."

"I don't know, Assai." Veronica started, feeling a bit apprehensive about it. "The whole idea of seeing the future… it's kind of—"

"But aren't you curious of what the future holds for you and your friends?" the other woman countered. "Of when you'll be able to finally find your parents? Or if Malone will ever come back? Or if Roxton and Marguerite—"

"Okay, okay!" Veronica said, raising her hands in front of her in mock defense. She smiled slightly. "I'll go in and meet her, and have my future read. But only on one condition… you come in with me, and you have your own future told to you first."

Assai nodded. "Agreed," she said. "Now let's go in!"

*

Veronica recognized the overwhelming smell of cypress and yarrow root as she stepped inside the small tent. Although the smell was heavily laced in the air, she never felt as though she would suffocate from it. It smelled sweet and powerful, all at the same time.

She never knew that she has not yet moved from her position until an old woman's voice floated to her ears. "Come in, child. Don't be timid to have your future revealed to you; after all, your future differs with every breath you take."

She glanced at Assai to find her already seated in front of the old woman with silver hair and eyes. When Veronica looked at her, she found that her eyes were focused not on Assai, but on her face. "I—"

The aged woman smiled kindly. "There is disbelief in your heart." She stated. "I cannot blame you; you with the hard past should never believe in anything so easily. It will be the cause of your downfall if you do." Then she moved her head to one side. "But you already know that, don't you, my child?"

"Magda," Assai said softly, drawing the woman's attention from Veronica's face, "we have come to have you read our future to us." She looked expectantly at her relative. "You can do that, can you?"

"Of course, my dear." Magda's silver eyes finally latched itself on Assai's face. She reached for her bowl, and then proceeded to take in a very small portion of the red liquid that was inside. She smeared Assai's palm with it, and then held it between her own. "The future changes with every breath we make." She repeated. "I can only show you one of the possibilities. It depends on you to make it into a reality."

Magda closed her eyes. Veronica thought she saw a soft blue glow surround the women's hands, but before she could confirm it, the light was already gone. She focused her eyes on the aged woman, and watched as a smile lighted her features. "My dear," she said to Assai, "I see an heir to your husband's skills and wisdom."

Assai looked down on her abdomen and smiled. "A child," she said, as if in awe. "I'm going to be a mother!" Then she jumped into Veronica's arms and laughed in great delight.

Veronica shared her friend's joy for several moments, before she turned her eyes back to Magda's face. There was something in the woman's kind face that seemed to draw her in. Without further thought, she stepped out of Assai's jubilant embrace, sat in front of Magda and thrust her hand outward. "Tell me," she began, "what you see." 

Magda took her hand and held it between her own. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Friends." She started to say. "You have four other people that you share your life, your house, with. Oh, but I see one has gone alone in his own quest." Magda opened her eyes. "But he will return to you." She said. "And during one of your journeys you will find another friend; someone whose life is yet to start."

Veronica's eyes became furrowed with confusion, and she looked at Assai before returning her eyes to the old woman.

"Your lives are all intertwined," Magda began again. "Where one dwells the others do, too." She reached for the red liquid and placed a star on Veronica's palm. The liquid felt hot against her skin, but when Magda covered it with her hands the uncomfortable warmth was felt no more.

Veronica watched as Magda closed her eyes in concentration. Then she watched in alarm when the older woman paled, and her hands trembled. Veronica glanced at Assai, and in her eyes there was a hint of fear.

"Magda?" Assai called, as she stood up and went to her side. "Magda?" She held the woman's hands and tried to stop its shaking. Assai removed Veronica's hand from Magda's grasp, which was difficult to do, since the woman was clutching at it with strength that surprised both women.

Veronica stared at the trembling woman, and then at her hand. The star on her palm glimmered red before her eyes, before it died and it was all ink again. 

"Magda!" Assai called out. "What is—"

"Blood!" The aged woman suddenly cried. She forced her way out of Assai's grasp, and then grabbed Veronica's shoulders. "Blood," she whispered.

Then she closed her eyes and fell, unconscious, on Veronica's lap.

* end chapter two 


	4. Chapter Three

**Author's Notes: Oh… oh… DUCK! You were a bit slow, and now you've just received a flying kiss from me! Hah! Oh, well. If I could I'd give you all more than that. I'll give you a cookie! Or a dollar for all being so wonderful! Or I'll bake you each a cake! Not that I'm a better cook than Marguerite is but it's the thought that counts, right? :)**

- Beckers… blood, definitely NOT a good sign… :) BTW, I need more of your delicious fics! I just visited your site and read all of your stuff (I absolutely love your NUMB, DECLINE, THE CRAVING and DARK HUNTER) and now I will boldly declare that I DEMAND MORE from you! Okay, that sounded, well, demanding… how about… please, can I have more?

- Ijemanja, I'm glad that you were freaked out by the prologue and creeped (?) by the old woman… now I know that I've gotten my desire effect on y'all! :)

- veggie_5… as shameful as I am to admit it, I AM definitely a tease! Hehe. Now that I've just finished reading your fics (MisMatch and Hidden World), I am tapping my foot on the floor (I think my mom just woke up… shoot!), waiting desperately for the next installments. *Sings* Next insta-allments! BTW, Veronica won't be hooking up with anyone. I wouldn't dream of it! N/V all the way! *or at least, for your sake… Mwahahahah!*

- TLWROX… shameless little us, both having dirty little minds! I admit I haven't watched 'Stranded' *oh, curses all!* so I'm at loss, but guessing from your tone I could only imagine what the ep was all about… Oi! My dirty imagination just ran away from me again!

- and thank you for those who reviewed my attempt at humor and fluffiness. Meant a lot to me. Thanks!

**Author's Notes 2: Chapter Four will be coming on Monday (I think). Hope you'll wait for it! And have you noticed? The BIG, HUMONGOUS spaces are gone! Yay!**

**Disclaimer: Anything related to 'the Lost World' is not mine.**

**Cry of the Blood**

_Chapter Three_

George Challenger has never, in his entire existence, seen anything quite like this ever before.

Earlier, while drinking with the elders he was also discussing with them the phenomenon called rain. The Zanga people thought that each droplet of water was a blessing from their Rain God, Bathala, who, after enough sacrifices were offered, will permit the heavens to open and let its divine water flow downwards to the parched earth. Challenger simply explained to them that rain was just recycled water; that after the clouds have gathered enough evaporated water in them from different rivers and streams and have just become too heavy with its burden, the water will come back to earth as droplets of rain, and some of it will end up in rivers and streams to begin the journey all over again. Both parties seemed amused at their counterparts' explanation; neither accepting nor believing the other's claim. 

But now… they wished the other has an explanation for this incident, because even in the wisest and most knowledgeable man they could not find the answer to the phenomena that was unfolding in front of them.

How Challenger wished that this could be explained as easily as he explained the scientific journey of rain.

He watched silently as Mara, one the village's most trusted healers, placed several large leaves on the woman's forehead. Challenger did not want to question the act right now, because all the others seemed intent into saving the life of the old woman who lied there, almost on the edge, clinging only to life by a mere thread.

Mara shook her head, almost sadly at that, and then she proceeded to remove the leaves from her face.

"Mara?" Amal asked the healer.

She took her leaves with her as she stood up. "Magda must have done something to displease the Gods." She stated quietly. Mara glanced at the bedraggled form by the bed, and sighed. "She only has until sundown to live."

The other elders took in this news with much regret, as each bent his head, already in mourning.

But Challenger won't accept this fact that easily. Quickly, he approached Amal and placed his hand on the elder's shoulder. "Amal," he said softly. "Why don't you allow me to take a look at her?"

Amal looked up at him, his black eyes almost sunken in grief. "But we already know what is to become of her." He said lowly. Amal returned his eyes on Magda's body. "As Mara said, she must have displeased the Gods in some way, and now she is paying the price."

"My friend," Challenger muttered. "We have our differences, both in faith and in practice, but this time we have something in common; and that is, to see this woman alive." He removed his hand from Amal's shoulder and went to stand beside the healer. "You have done your own diagnosis, let me do mine. Please."

Amal looked at the explorer, his gaze intense and very deep. Then, he gave a sigh that Challenger could only think of as consent. "Then, you shall do as you will." He said as he stood up. He motioned with one hand and one by one, the three elders went out of Magda's tent, with the healer the last one to leave. And before Amal left Challenger to his task, he spoke softly, pleadingly.

"Save her, my friend. She is family to us; we consider her as important as your friends are to you."

And now Challenger was faced with the gravity of the woman's situation. 

*

Roxton found it in himself that he regretted deeply the abrupt conclusion of what promised to be, well… a very promising night.

He spotted Marguerite walking towards the silent Assai. When the Zanga woman spotted her, she gave a brief smile and then looked away. Not one to be dissuaded by nonverbal actions, Marguerite planted herself firmly by Assai's side.

And now, the Zanga woman was crying openly, her tears spilling directly onto Marguerite's shoulder.

Marguerite rubbed the woman's back in an effort to calm her down. She whispered soothing words to dam the woman's tears. Marguerite looked directly at Roxton, as if she felt his eyes on her all along. She gestured towards an equally silent Veronica, silently telling him to try and give some comfort to the pale woman.

Obediently, Roxton, with two cups of water in hand, went off to Veronica. The woman looked startled by his sudden appearance, seemingly shaken out of her own reverie, and then smiled in vain as she accepted the water he so gallantly offered. Roxton noticed that, while holding on to the cup, the jungle girl's hands were shaking terribly. "Veronica?" He asked, concerned.

Veronica wiped the excess water off her mouth with her hand. She heard Roxton's unsaid question. "I'm fine." She said softly.

Roxton glanced at the tent of the stricken elder, not at all surprised that Veronica's eyes were firmly latched on it. He drew in a little breath, then expelled it in a rush.

The celebration they found themselves to be involved in abruptly ended when Assai came out of the tent, shrieking at the top of her lungs. All of the natives were alarmed, and all the merriment came to an end. Roxton and Marguerite were even left alone while dancing together, both wondering just what in hell was going on.

Then Roxton pointed at the elders, Challenger included with them, being called to the tent where Assai sprung from.

Then Marguerite heard from one of the women that an old shaman was seemingly stricken with black magic while trying to peer into the future.

"Magda must have lost control of the spirits," one said.

"But that cannot be. She's very powerful, is she not? To have spent years on the mountain, it should have made her stronger, more able to control her gift."

"But spirits can be very unpredictable. A foolish, weak shaman to try and control it could end up with a spirit enslaving him, or—"

Marguerite drew in her breath sharply, as she turned away from their conversation. Roxton wrapped her in his arms.

Or she could end up dead from trying to use magic that she cannot handle, from using a craft that was too strong for her.

"I don't understand," Veronica muttered, almost to herself. Roxton pushed his thoughts away to listen to her. "Assai said that she— she was able to read her future. But when it came to me—"

He sat closer to her, and placed an awkward hand on her shoulder; only to find her skin cold and clammy. "It's not your fault." He said soothingly.

Veronica closed her eyes, and then nodded. "She… she saw something in my future." She whispered. "And then she said…"

"She said what?"

"Blood." She frowned. "She saw blood in my future." Veronica turned troubled eyes towards him. "What does that mean?"

Roxton shook his head. "I don't know." He said honestly. 

Footsteps echoed in their ears, and when they looked up they saw Marguerite walking towards them. "Where's Assai?" Roxton asked her as she approached.

"Asleep." Marguerite answered. She turned her eyes on Veronica. "And that's what you should be right now."

Veronica shook her head. "I can't sleep anyways."

Roxton stood up. "I'll just check on Challenger." He said, drinking what's left of his water before setting it beside Veronica's. He then stopped beside Marguerite, touched her cheek with his fingers, and then he went off to the old shaman's tent.

Marguerite sat on the spot Roxton has vacated and regarded the younger woman's pale face. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

Veronica turned to stare at her. She's never heard Marguerite talk to anyone that way before. Then she shook her head. "There isn't much to tell." She said. 

"Except Magda seemed to see death in my future."

*

Roxton opened the tent, and stepped inside to find Challenger doing some sort of test on the woman. "Challenger?" he asked. "What are you doing?"

Challenger regarded the younger man with a brief nod, then went back into dangling his own locket on the woman's face. After a few more swings he pocketed the locket and stood up. "Just what I suspected." He started.

Roxton went closer to the bed where the old lady lies. Her face looked older as fine lines marred its surface, but her eyes, though wide open, were staring into nothingness. "What is it? What's wrong with her?"

Challenger glanced at the woman. "That's the problem, _nothing's wrong with her. I've checked her pulse, her reflexes, her body temperature… even her eyesight. She followed my locket with her eyes, John. Scientifically speaking, she's a healthy specimen. She should be walking about, not lying here like some kind of corpse."_

"So you're saying that what the natives were saying is true, that she's been stricken by magic." Roxton assumed.

"Or something else that science simply cannot explain." Challenger noticed something on the ground. He crouched and picked up a leaf. "One of the healers said that Magda has until sundown tomorrow." He said. "I wonder…"

And before Roxton could blink, Challenger was already out the door.

Roxton looked at the form of the woman and gave an audible sigh. He then turned around, fully intending to follow Challenger, when suddenly…

_"ROXTON!"_

And suddenly he was in full alert.

That was Marguerite's voice.

He ran out, his senses mechanically beginning his search for the woman whose cry just tore through him. He whipped his head from side to side, trying to locate her, trying to see what danger was onto them—

And when he saw Marguerite, he almost sank to his knees in relief.

But something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

She was still talking to Veronica, and there was no amount of fear whatsoever on her face. In fact, when he looked around, there was nothing unusual in the village, save for some people running about. There was no danger that he needed to save her from.

Confusion resided on Roxton's face.

Then his gaze ended up on the tent he just came from.

Reluctantly, Roxton dragged his feet back into the tent. When he stepped inside, his eyes immediately focused on the woman on the bed. Before he could stop himself, he was walking towards her. Then he noticed that her mouth, closed before, was now wide open.

And then…

_"ROXTON, NOOOO!!"_

Bewildered, Roxton took a step back as he recognized Veronica's scream. Clearly her voice cannot be as clear as he heard it, judging from the distance from her and Marguerite's spot from his.

"_Roxton, no! Don't kill her! She's not the one possessed!"_

Challenger spoke to him like he was beside the hunter. But there was no way that that could be true.

"_Marguerite is! Kill her, Roxton, before she destroys all of you!"_

Roxton took another step back. And then he noticed something…

Magda's eyes were staring at him.

Then he felt something hot and sticky on his palm.

And when he looked down, he saw blood. Everywhere. On his clothes, on his skin.

He'd been stabbed.

* end chapter three

how's that for a cliffhanger? *demented grin*


	5. Chapter Four

**Author's Notes: *grins profusely* I just love your reviews, guys!  Thank you so, very much! I know, I know, I told you I'll post this one by Monday… but I wasn't able to come up with anything… well, substantial… forgive me, please? *holds a picture of WS as peace offering***

- To whoever you are, I'm very glad that you're loving this fic… :) I promise I'll do everything I could to make you happy… :)

- Jaclyn, thanks! I'm glad you're intrigued.

- TLWROX… about your question, well, I _intended it to be fuzzy :) :) Actually you just have to read on to find out. If I spoil you now… then there'd be no fun in that! :D *scratches head* You're right, I didn't include M and R dancing in here. Hmm. Maybe, in another story, perhaps…? Hmm…_

- veggie_5… yes, yes I know that I'm VERY evil… *maniacal laughter* But really, I hoped you had your good night's sleep… you'll need it to FINISH YOUR TWO FICS! I need them! I want them! And I'll bug you till you do! 

- Beckers, thanks so very much! This fic is for Halloween? *grin* Yeah… maybe… with all the weird things going around and even weirder things to come…

- Margie, thanks to you, too! I really hope you'll stick around to find out what's going to happen next.

- And a big, big thank you to Suzy… I just read your e-mail. Thanks, hon. You're the best! *hugs back*

I never thought that this fic will become this complicated. When I typed the first chapter it seemed as though everything was easy enough… and only after I read and re-read the four chapters did I think to myself that the original plot just can't be used anymore. So, brace yourselves, everyone… hope you'll enjoy the ride! Just be assured that whatever twist will be explained and delved with in the future chapters.

**Disclaimer: Anything related to 'The Lost World' is not mine.**

**Cry of the Blood**

_Chapter Four_

Marguerite Krux placed a blanket over Veronica. "Now," she said with a slight smile. "Close your eyes and go to sleep."

Veronica frowned at her in return. "I'm not a child, you know." She said. "It's not like I need someone to tuck me in."

"If I don't tuck you in then you wouldn't sleep." Marguerite answered. "Now close your eyes. Come on. Or do you want me to read you a bedtime story first?"

Veronica chuckled at that.

The two women were in their own tent, the one that they were always given whenever they visit the village. It took a little convincing on Marguerite's part to actually take Veronica in for the night, and much, much more to make her rest. Right now, Veronica was lying on her back, with the hand-sewn blanket covering her body, and a soft pillow cushioning her head. Marguerite sat beside her, her long hair free of the braid that had imprisoned it before. Her hat was placed several feet away, and along with it were the jungle girl's other accessories.

Almost reluctantly, Veronica closed her eyes, silently willing herself to fall into the arms of slumber. But, try as she might, sleep won't come to her. With a frustrated sigh, she opened her eyes. "I told you I can't sleep." She said to Marguerite. "There's just too many things going on in my head right now. I just can't… I just can't—"

"Oh, hush." Marguerite told her sharply, bringing a halt to her words. "If you're thinking about what that woman told you, then may I suggest that you just forget about it. I know, I know, I wasn't there and I don't know what exactly happened, but trust me on this one: it's not your fault."

Veronica looked at her. "I wasn't—"

"Blaming yourself?" Marguerite rolled her eyes. "Veronica, I've been with you for the last three years. I know you well enough to say that whenever something unexpected happens to someone and you're within the vicinity, you always, _always blame yourself for what happened, even if it's very clear that you have nothing to do with it." She placed a hand on Veronica's face. "You and Roxton are very much the same, do you know that? You people and your guilt and your favorite hobby of blaming yourself. It's almost sickening, actually." But she said this with a smile on her face, so that lessened the sting of her words to an almost humorous level._

"Well, it's not like I _like feeling this way." Veronica said. She looked up at Marguerite with an almost childish light in her eyes. "Do you really think it's not… my fault? At all?"_

Marguerite shook her head. "Definitely not your fault." She said soothingly. "But if it'll help you feel any better, I promise you that we'll do anything to help that poor woman. Later on I'll speak with George and John about this, but I can almost guarantee that they'll say yes."

Veronica smiled, and then took Marguerite's hand in between her own. She gave it a gentle, affectionate squeeze. "Thank you." She said sincerely.

Marguerite squeezed back. "It's nothing." She said, the sides of her lips giving way to the barest of smiles. "Now go to sleep before you force me to sing you a lullaby."

The other woman nodded, and this time, when she closed her eyes she was already on her way to her dreams.

*

Challenger made his way towards the healer's tent. In his hands he held the leaf that she had used on the fallen woman. Around him, the natives were wild with discussions about the incident that took place. Challenger took note of some, and disregarded others. After a few more moments, he stood at the entrance of Mara's tent. "Good evening," he said loudly. "I wish to speak to you for a moment."

There were several blank moments before he heard the sound of shuffling feet, and Mara emerged from her tent. "Come in." she said.

He entered her tent after she disappeared behind the curtain door. He wasted only a brief glance around her quarters. The interior was no surprise to him; being the healer that she was, he had expected several leaves and roots of trees from the jungle to be hanging on the walls. But there were just some things that belied the constituent of a shaman's brew. On one, small corner, he found several clay jars filled to the rim with insects. And on another one, he found several severed limbs. Some feet, some hands, some heads. All human.

Challenger took a step back, appalled with what he saw.

"What is it that you wanted to ask me?" Mara suddenly asked. When Challenger turned around, he saw that she was already standing behind him, her petite frame undoubtedly showing signs of extreme stress and old age. 

"Yes, yes." Challenger muttered. He lifted the leaf in his hand. "I was wondering about your… well, your opinion about the woman's condition." He said. 

Mara glanced at the leaf before looking at George again. A sad frown fleeted across her features. "It is unfortunate." She muttered. "The gods have always been harsh to anyone who dared to defy them. This is her punishment. Magda could only pay for her delinquency with her life."

"But are you most certain that her condition is caused by the gods?" Challenger asked. "Or rather, by their punishment?"

Mara looked at him in the eye. "Do you dare doubt my abilities, foreigner?" she asked, a sharp curve tingeing her words.

"Certainly not." George was quick enough to offer an apology. "But I _have been hearing several claims made by the natives about her condition."_

"Natives." She said distastefully. "What do they know?"

Challenger took a step forward. "That she had been stricken by powerful magic. That she has not been punished by the gods, only by a more formidable practitioner of black magic."

Mara said nothing, only continued to stare at him through eyes that held a great deal of knowledge. Her gaze narrowed, her mouth closed until her lips formed a thin line.

He took it as a sign that she was listening. "She was trying to peer into Veronica's future when something happened." Challenger took note of the sudden shift in her character. She looked adamant, yet something in her eyes… yielded somewhat. "You _know something." He said. "Was it… did you deliberately __lie to the elders about Magda's condition?"_

She averted her eyes.

Again, her silence was a confirmation for Challenger. "What could she have possibly seen to affect her this much?"

"You've already answered your own question."

Challenger frowned at her sudden outburst. "I beg your pardon?"

Mara sat on the bed that was safely tucked into one side of the tent. "Dark Magic." She said, almost wearily. She gestured towards a bowl on the table beside Challenger. "Look at it. Tell me what you see."

Challenger obediently picked the bowl. The frown in his face deepened remarkably, and he looked at Mara. "Is this…?" 

"Those are the leaves that I have placed on Magda."  

He reached into the bowl and touched one blackened, almost charcoaled leaf. "But how…?"

"I thought that you will also fall for what I have told the elders earlier, but I underestimated your knowledge and skills, foreigner." She said with almost a ghost of a smile. "And now, it may seem that you and your friends are the only ones who can save her."

*

Marguerite stood up from her position as soon as she heard the rhythmic breathing of the sleeping woman. She grabbed her hat and placed it on her head before she went out.

Like Roxton, she, too, was disappointed that something happened to spoil all their fun. She almost thought that in this cursed plateau, she and her friends were forbidden to have anything that resembled a good time. It was almost guaranteed that whenever they were in a festive mood, something will always happen to ruin in.

_Like now, she thought. __Just when we're all loosing up…_

Suddenly, a cry pierced through her senses.

A shiver of fear ran through her body. "_Roxton," she breathed, several emotions expressing themselves in that one, small word._

Then she sprinted towards Magda's tent.

*

Roxton stared at the blood on his hands, his heart beating loudly in his ears. 

_Stabbed… stabbed… I've been stabbed…  _

As if looking for proof, he looked down on his bloodied torso, to find a large knife wound in his stomach. As he breathed, he felt the pain as it walked all around him, its heavy footsteps trampling his senses, blinding his eyes, deafening his ears. An estranged cry escaped from his open lips; the cry seemed small to him, yet in reality he cried so loud he almost awakened the dead.

He stepped back, again, and again, and again… until his back touched the walls. He stared at his bloodied hands, until he slid down the floor, until he was sitting down…

_Oh, God… I'm dying…_

In all his days, John Richard Roxton has never known true fear.

Until now.

_Oh, God…_

"_ROXTON!"_

He looked up to find Marguerite by the door, her eyes wild and wide. Apparently she had seen him, for she was heading towards him, her face contorted with fear…

_Marguerite… Oh, God… she'll see me die… no… don't let her see… I don't want her to see—_

"Roxton," she said, as soon as she was already by his side. Her wild eyes widened even more as she looked at his bedraggled state. "Roxton," she said, confusion coloring her tone. "What's wrong? What—"

_What's wrong?! __I'm dying! I'm…_

And that was when it hit him.

The pain was gone.

There was no stab wound.

There was no blood.

John Roxton wasn't dying.

_"What in bloody hell?" _

* end chapter four

Confused? Bewildered? Surprised? Tell me what you think.


	6. Chapter Five

**Author's Notes: *huge grin* I'm just sooo happy nowadays, after having read your reviews for both this one and my 'Caught in the Middle' :) Thanks so much! I really, really appreciate it! **

- veggie5…. All I can say is, THE GODS HAVE FINALLY ANSWERED MY PRAYERS! When I visited this morning, I found out that there was indeed a new chapter from you! *does my happy dance while grinning* yay! Also, I'm so happy that I've thrown you into a complete loop… that's me, the girl who loves to see her readers being tormented… remember, evil, evil! LOL!

- TLWROX… temper, temper! *even HUGER grin* I love the fact that you liked the last one… :D And for that, I'll throw in an even bigger picture of WS!

- Fab, as TLWROX found out earlier, I don't give out spoilers… *Yes, I'm still grinning* But don't worry. All in due time, my dear. All in due time.

- Margie, my first reviewer of the chapter! I'm so glad that you liked the chapter enough to keep you waiting for the next chapter! I swear the next chapters will be hopefully coming out faster than this chapter did! And did you notice that I've used the word 'chapter' several times already? *still grinning if you want to know* Forgive me. This is me loaded with enough sugar to blast me to the plateau! Okay, I might be freaking you out now, so I'll shut up. Yup, this is me shutting up.

- One last shout out to Beckers! I absolutely love your Christmas Pudding! And to netfret24! I am absolutely swooning over your Devil May Care!

Yup, shutting up now.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to 'The Lost World'.**

**Cry of the Blood**

_Chapter Five_

Her heart beating wildly in her chest, Marguerite stormed inside Magda's tent after she heard Roxton's cry. It was a cry of pure anguish and pain, one that undoubtedly send shivers all over her skin. Fear, an emotion she never wanted to have, a feeling so foreign to her, hammered through her entire being. It coursed through her veins, and blocked out all her rational thoughts, until it was everything to her. All there was was fear. All there was was Roxton.

And, suddenly, there he was.

"Roxton," she breathed out. Wasting not one more breath, she went towards him, and gathered him in her arms. Her eyes widened as fear hummed all around her; something was wrong with Roxton, something was_ very wrong. "John?" she whispered, so low he couldn't hear, as she brought one hand to his face. She touched his cheek, ran her fingers over his stubble-covered skin. He was very cold. "Roxton?" she asked, her eyes widening with confusion. She felt them already moistening with tears. Damn it, here she was, holding him so close she could feel his heart next to hers, and yet she still couldn't get over her fear. "What's wrong?"_

Her answer was a ragged breath from the man. He closed his eyes briefly, before he opened them and stared straight at her. She almost gasped at the sight of his eyes; there were too much inner turmoil in them; too much dread, too much pain… too much fear. It mirrored her own. 

His mouth opened to form words. "Marg— Marguerite," he said, as though he was pushing his words to tumble from his mouth. His words were slow, slurred.

Marguerite tightened her hold on him. God, what was happening? "John," she said, louder this time. "Tell me what's wrong!" she almost begged.

She watched as Roxton lifted one hand and brought it to his midsection. He touched it, and then raised his hand to his face. His brows roughened to one line, and he repeated the act, as though he cannot believe what he was seeing. His lips parted, but spoke no words.

She was about to ask him again when he stiffened in her arms. He straightened himself, his hands still raised to his face. Then he lowered his gaze to his abdomen. "_What in bloody hell?!" he whispered to himself._

Marguerite, frustrated and confused beyond her limit, grabbed his shoulders and forced Roxton to look at her square in the eye. When she was confronted with a dumbfounded, almost idiotic look on his face, she almost gave in to the strong urge of slapping him. "ROXTON!" she cried. "What happened to you?!"

He stared at her, openmouthed, and then looked down on his hands. He said nothing.

"ROXTON!" This time, her cry came as a high shrill.

At last, Roxton met her gaze. "I was… I was…"

"What?" Marguerite was now sure that the man before her was definitely in shock when their eyes met. He was looking at her, that she could tell. But his focus was averted, distant, unsure… "Roxton?"

He gulped audibly, his face finally showing signs that he acknowledged her presence before him. 

"I was stabbed."

*

Challenger looked up from the bowl of charcoaled leaves to face the aged woman who was seated on her bed. "But there is one thing that I do not understand," he said, as he placed the bowl down on the table. "How could Magda be infected by something in the future? Much more from a _vision of a future? It is all too complex—" _

"Ah, but magic always is." She told him. "You are a man of the world, foreigner. You seek to explain all the things that are within your reach. But have you ever thought that, perhaps, there is always something _beyond your fingers?" Mara stood up from her bed, and at that act alone it almost seemed as though she was robbed of strength. She shook her head at him. "I cannot answer your question. I do not have the knowledge or the capability to do so."_

"Perhaps you do not know the answer to my query, but you do _know something, and that knowledge is enough to make you lie to the elders." Challenger brought forth his words bluntly. "Why lie to the elders, Mara? Why weave something that would inevitably lead to someone's death?"_

The ghost of a smile, apparent on her face before, vanished without a trace. "Because to risk saving her life is to risk losing all of ours." She answered, almost angrily. There was something in the foreigner's voice that struck a nerve. He was almost _accusing her. "I do believe it is better for her to die alone than bring the whole Zanga village with her."_

"And you call yourself a healer?" Challenger questioned, his face twisted with disgust. "You have no authority to judge who among you lives or dies!"  

Mara looked at him, her dark eyes narrowed. "I save lives." She spoke, almost quietly. "At this point, this is what I am trying to do."

He looked at her, but she had already turned her back on him. "So you're letting your sister die without as much as a helping hand." He stated simply.

At this point, Mara whirled around, her aged face dark with fury. "It is either that or let all of us die with her!" she almost yelled. "If I told the elders the truth, did you ever think that Amal would not send anyone to try and save her? That act alone is enough to ensure the death of this tribe." She glared at him, daggers apparent in her gaze. "You are wise, foreigner. You know that if ever a time comes for _you to choose between the death of one and the death of all, you will know __what to choose." Then she closed her eyes, and expelled a slow, labored breath. "Sacrifices are difficult to do, but it has to be done. There is no other way."_

Challenger almost bit back his own tongue. It is apparent that the shaman was clearly wounded with his callous remarks. But what he said to her was the truth. She has no right to decide the fate of her sister. And yet, there is also truth in her words. Sacrifices are inevitable. It has to be done. And yet… "You said that my friends and I may be the only hope for Magda's survival," he told her. "How is that? How are you assured that if we are to go, we would not meet the fate you are so afraid would happen to the tribe?"

"There is always the risk." Mara told him honestly. "You and your friends may come back. Or never come back at all." She looked at him in the eye. "Are you willing to sacrifice all of your lives to save someone you barely know?"

Challenger wasn't able to speak for a few moments.

Mara almost smiled at his predicament. "_Now is __your the time to choose, foreigner. The death of one… or the death of all?"_

* end chapter five

I know, I know, all this time and I was only able to write a very _short one? *sighs* Hope you're still interested. Please review! Remember, review now and receive holiday cheers later!_


	7. Chapter Six

**Author's Notes: Happy Holidays, everyone! I hope you and your family will enjoy a peaceful celebration :)**

Woah! I just watched Tapestry and, OhmyGOD! Parcifal, black widow, Roxton talking to himself, Marguerite cooking (burning) something… what WAS she cooking? But Geez! I LOVED the episode!!!! (Sorry, I just had to share that one…)

Plus! I really, really appreciated all the sweet reviews for my 'The Hardest Word'. I admit that I got the idea from watching the M/R argument in Tapestry. There's just something about their expressions that struck me so much. Anyways, thank you again! You don't know how much that meant to me…:)

- veggie_5, first, I'm evil, now I'm SWEET?! I think I prefer my evil self, thank you very much *grin* Anyways, yes, you're welcome. I meant every word, so go back and do your fic, okay? *sweet grin* (I'm telling you, this sweet thing is just SO not me! LOL!) 

- Fab! Thank you so much! And as for Mara, she'll be a very important character, I'll assure you that. But enough of spoilers! Bad, bad spoilers!

- Beckers! Yay, you're back in reviewing my fic! Anyways, yup, me, a very baddy cliffhagerish girl… hehehe… :) I guess it just takes one to know one, LOL! (But I have one itty bitty question… what does WEG mean? Well, two questions, actually… are you writing any of the fics on the drawing board in your site? Because I would surely love to read the one where Roxton's a gladiator *wide grin* I'm eagerly awaiting that one!)

- TLWROX! Again, I'll admit I have never seen Unnatural Selection (I only started watching when I saw 'Ice Age') so… I don't know what the ep was about (read the review again, then realized that you've already told me what the ep was about – damn it -) But I'll assure you that the fic won't be like that (although… *evil, conniving grin*…). And, yes, I do know how it feels like to be so damned involved with a fic (you should have seen me when I'm reading… I'm a total wreck! I laugh, I cry, I curse…hehehe) Speaking of reading, when am I going to get a new fic from YOU, girl?!?! Make me a happy reader and give me a TLWROX fic!

- Suzanne, I'm always looking forward to your e-mails. Thank you so, very much! And I loved the card you sent me! I especially loved Santa doing the surfing dance! LOL!

Again, Merry Christmas, everyone!

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to 'The Lost World'.**

**Cry of the Blood**

_Chapter Six_

Challenger wore a very troubled expression as he stepped out of Mara's tent.

Moments after he had heard her question, he had been unable to speak. How was he going to? He could not decide for Veronica, Roxton and Marguerite. He couldn't just say yes to a quest that would definitely endanger all their lives. He couldn't just agree to go on an expedition, all the while knowing the risks that were involved. He needed some time to think, he needed some time to analyze, but most of all, he needed to hear the opinion of the others. Only after that will he be able to answer her question.

And, as if sensing his hesitation, the older woman just turned away from him, bid him a good night and asked him to step out.

He did. 

Now, as he walked towards their own tent, Challenger was thinking of ways on how to explain the situation to the others. Will they agree? Will they refuse? He was reaching for the tent opening when Marguerite emerged from it. Challenger almost gasped in surprise; he wasn't expecting her to be still awake so late in the evening. She also seemed to be genuinely stunned to see him, and that momentarily erased the troubled expression she herself was wearing. "Marguerite," he said in an urgent voice. "Where are the others? We have something important to talk about."

She regarded their tent with a slight nod. "Veronica's asleep. And Roxton's—"

Challenger frowned as he heard the long pause that followed her words. "And Roxton's…?" he prodded on.

Marguerite looked at him, concern evident in her eyes. "Something happened to him." She said. "Right inside Magda's tent."

"Good God!" Challenger exclaimed. "What happened to him?" 

He was heading straight inside when Marguerite stopped him by holding on to his arm. "He's alright," she said. "Just… shocked."

"Shocked?" He echoed her words. 

She let go of him, placed a hand on her forehead and rubbed the skin above her nose. "He's… well, when I got to him he was lying on his back." She started. "He looked so… he was very pale. And very scared. I don't know what happened to him. He was almost incoherent when I tried to talk to him. He was speaking in phrases, and all he said was—" She took a deep breath, and expelled it in a rush. "He told me he'd been stabbed."

Silence befell the two, until Challenger said one word: "Stabbed?"

Marguerite glanced at the tent. "That's what he kept saying, that he was stabbed right in his midsection." Then she looked at Challenger. "But there was no wound, no blood, no nothing. I already checked. Twice. He was just—" She looked away. "I think it was just a hallucination or something else… oh, I don't know! But he was… he was very convinced that he was dying, George." Her last words were but a whisper. "He kept saying he was."

He regarded her quietly; judging from the lines of worry on her forehead and the panic in her voice he could tell that she was more than just shaken up by the ordeal herself. "And you said this happened inside Magda's tent." He stated.

She nodded, determination filling her posture. "And that's why I'm going there to investigate."

This time, it was he who held on to her arm as she started to move away. "But Marguerite," he said to her. "I have something very important to ask from all of you. We need to talk—"

"I'm sick of talking!" She exploded as she tore her arm away from his grasp. "I'm sick of doing nothing, George! I want some answers for all of this, and if going inside that blasted tent is all there is to it then there's certainly nothing to stop me from getting it myself." She stared at him, as if challenging him to defy her. 

He did. "But the answers to all of this _might be in what I am about to say!" he said to her. _

Marguerite crossed her arms in front of her. "Then tell me right at this very moment what it is." She said in a tone that completely contradicted her mood.

Challenger sighed. Seeing that there was nothing he could say to make her changer her mind, he just followed her _request. "I spoke with the healer." He said. "Mara said that Magda's condition wasn't brought about by their god's punishment, but rather it was because of a powerful magic Magda saw in Veronica's future." _

Confusion registered on Marguerite's face. "Powerful magic?"

"Black magic." Challenger affirmed. "The details weren't exactly clear, but one thing was for certain: we are Magda's last hope for survival. It seemed as though the implications of the curse were deadly; anyone inflicted with it will surely die."

She was silent for a minute. "So what should we do to save her?"

"We have to go on a journey," He answered, "that journey is almost as deadly as the curse. There are risks involved. Mara wasn't able to elaborate any further, but she is going to need our answer some time soon." Challenger let her ponder for a while. "Well?"

Marguerite looked at him. "I told Veronica earlier that we'll help Magda anyway we can." She said. "So I vote that we go."

"Alright, then. Perhaps it's time to ask Veronica and Roxton about this."

He was about to enter when Marguerite spoke. "What about you, George?" she asked. "What is _your say about this deadly voyage?"_

Challenger turned to smile at her. "I will stand by the decision of the majority." He said. "Whatever Veronica and Roxton will say is fine with me."

*

Through the fog of confusion that surrounded him, Roxton could finally see some clarity.

He laid completely still, the hand-sewn blanket covering his half-clothed body. His shirt has been removed from him so that Marguerite could see if there was indeed any stab wound. And, as she had expected, there wasn't any.

_Was it a dream? He asked himself, lifting a hand to run it through his hair. __An illusion? Magic? Roxton couldn't be too sure, but it had felt so, very real. _

He heard the voices. He felt the pain. He felt the fear. He felt the blood. He felt his life slipping away; only to have it come back to him in a rush as he lay in Marguerite's arms. For several minutes he couldn't form a complete thought, much less recognize Marguerite's presence beside him then. He could see her there, he could see her frustration, her own confusion, but what was he to say? How was he going to explain it to her when he couldn't understand it himself?

_I was stabbed. That was what he said to her. But how was she going to believe him when she saw for herself that there was no wound?_

Suddenly Roxton heard some noise by the door. His sight still hazy, he called out who he hoped it was. "Marguerite?" 

"I'm afraid to disappoint you, John, but I'm not Marguerite." That was Challenger's voice. True enough, the man walked towards him and sat beside him. "How are you?" He asked, evidently concerned.

Roxton shook his head. "I really don't know what I'm feeling right now," he confessed.

Challenger nodded. "Marguerite told me about your… encounter," he said. "She was very frightened for you, you know."

The younger man just had to smile at that. "She was, wasn't she?" He had seen her expression, and it was obvious that she was definitely feeling _with him. "Where is she, anyway?" He asked. He had only closed his eyes for a minute and when he opened them again, he found to his disappointment that she wasn't there._

Challenger seemed to hesitate, but decided to answer him. "She's on her way to Magda's tent as we speak."

Roxton's eyes widened. "She shouldn't be there!" He said vehemently. He tried to sit up but it seemed as though his body refused to cooperate. "Something might happen to her! Challenger, I should—"

"—rest." The older man placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Marguerite is in no imminent danger. She's a grown woman, and could very well take good care of herself." Challenger paused, and then regarded Roxton with serious eyes. "I have already asked her about this. Now is the time to ask you."

"Ask me what?"

Before he answered, Challenger rose and went to Veronica's side. He gently awakened her, and when she did he went to stand at their center, his pose demanding attention from both of them. He wasted not one more minute as he went straight towards the point. "I'm going to ask you both if you are willing to risk your lives to save Magda."  

"Save Magda?" Roxton repeated.

"Her life is in jeopardy," Challenger explained. "The healer pointed out that she was indeed cursed. Her illness was because of black magic and not some punishment by the gods. In order to save her life, we need to go on an expedition, but we'll never know how it would turn out. Mara cautioned me that we… well, there is a chance that we may never come back at all."

Veronica stared at Challenger. "What are we going to look for?" she asked, her decision already made the moment Challenger posed the question.

"Mara didn't say," Challenger said, shifting his gaze from Roxton to Veronica. "She said that she will, however, give us the complete picture the moment we decided to go." 

"Then I say we go." Veronica said.

"Are you certain, Veronica?" Challenger asked her.

She nodded. "Very."

"What about you, John?"

Roxton looked at him. "What did Marguerite say when she heard this?"

The sides of his mouth quirked up. "She agreed." Challenger replied.

"Then there's no reason for me to say no." Roxton said.

"Then yes it is." Challenger stated. "Tomorrow morning, we will all go to save Magda's life."  
*

Marguerite felt a chill ran up her spine as soon as she stepped inside the shaman's tent. There was something in the air that made her skin crawl; whatever it was, she felt that it was definitely not good.

She walked to the bed where the woman lay. Magda looked serene, peaceful… clearly _not a picture of someone's who's just been cursed through a vision of the future. _

_What on earth was happening? She asked herself. First, there was the incident of Magda falling into a deep, death-like slumber, then it was Roxton with his hallucination of being stabbed. There was not much similarity between both cases, except for one thing: both happened on this very same tent. _

What Marguerite told Challenger was true, she _is determined to find out some answers to this goddamned puzzler. And if turning this tent upside-down will yield to anything even remotely close to the truth, then so be it._

She turned away from the bed, and was about to begin when she heard a small, hissing sound. 

Marguerite looked around her, trying to find out where the sound was coming from.

_SSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH_

The small, hissing sound was gradually increasing in intensity, until the sound wasn't just a hiss.

_SSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH_

She took a step back, a scream making its way to her mouth.

_SSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH_

And then, all was still. All was silent.

Marguerite looked around her, trying to find out where the sound was coming from. But her search yielded nothing; there was absolutely nothing in there that could make that sound. 

And then…

_Onnnnhhhlllllhhhyyyy__… wwwwhhhheeeeehhhnnn…_

Then came the whispers.

_Blllhhhooohhhhdddd__… fhhhlllloooowwwssss_

The voice was hoarse, rough; it made Marguerite want to listen and cover her ears at the same time.__

_Wwwwhhhhhiiiillll__… blllhhhooohhhhdddd…. fhhhllloooowww… _

The voice was the voice of the damned. The dead.

_Nnoooooohhhhh__…. Mmmmooooooohhhhrrrreeee…_

Marguerite just couldn't take it any longer; the voices were threatening to tear her sanity to pieces. The words were long, the whispers harried, slurred... but she was able to put them together, and was able to memorize them before she went out of her mind with fear.

"_Only when blood flows will blood flow no more."_

*end chapter six

- blame this chapter on the fact that I made this at 1 AM… I'm a freak, I know… :)


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